


Let Me Hear You

by TechnoXenoHolic



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Blue Bacchus is an MTO, I'm Just Writing What I Feel In My Spark Don't Mind Me, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Self-Indulgent, kin memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoXenoHolic/pseuds/TechnoXenoHolic
Summary: Blue Bacchus, what he was made to do, and who he ended up tagging along with. Based pretty much entirely on kinfeels.





	Let Me Hear You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andstarswillscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/gifts).



> Written with [Ozzy Osbourne's "Let Me Hear You Scream"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rsa4HktvsU4) playing on repeat in the background.
> 
> Honestly, I'm not really sure what this mess is supposed to be, but my amica wrote me a sweet fic and then I needed to write something as well and, uh... this is what came out? I didn't really bother to proofread so take this I guess

Gunfire rang hard and loud over the battlefield and all Blue Bacchus could feel was _thrilled._ There was energon on his pedes and smoke off the barrel of his rifle and screams in his audials. This was what he was _made to do,_ and his circuits _sang._

He knew what drugs were. The definition was somewhere in whatever mess had been dumped into his processor—circuit boosters, engex. Whatever. But more than that, he could _feel_ it, feel the high as he whirled around and his rifle cracked and another mech’s helm exploded.

One of Bacchus’ rotors was twisted and there was energon on his glossa, too, and the pain made everything sharp and clear in a way that made the dull fuzz of coming online so shortly before seem like a dream. Unreality.

This was the only reality he needed. This was what he was _Made. To. Do._

A part of him knew there were others like him out here, made for this. And still others _(fewer_ others) who hadn’t been _made_ for _anything._ Didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered now but winning. Shoot fast, hit hard, _don’t stop._

Another bot came from the side—appeared suddenly in the tunnel vision and made to tackle him. Clumsy on new limbs but reacting with reflexes literally seared into him at his onlining, Blue Bacchus leapt to the side. The bot skidded, changed direction, and Bacchus frantically tried to escape the lunge.

Gravity hit him from the _side_ and he blasted back.

The other bot’s chestplate collapsed under the force of the recoil. Blue Bacchus hit his back in a pile of corpses and bent _both_ his rotors this time.

Oh. Oh, pain wasn’t good anymore. Blue Bacchus twisted to the side and retched, tried to purge tanks that had never been filled. Time got all fragged up; he was swaying, groggy. His audials were ringing and his optics were fuzzy and—where was his rifle? He scrabbled frantically at the ground. Where was his _rifle—_

Everything was a blur. His energy levels kept dropping in huge leaps when he shut his optics—seventy-two percent. Then forty-eight. Then twenty-three.

Something crunched close by. Bacchus flinched awake and blinked rapidly, struggling to regain his vision.

And he looked up and saw…

Well. Nothing but a black and red shape, really, blocking out some of the light. Fuzzy and huge. Bit of white on it, actually. His vision swam and Bacchus nearly retched again.

“You’re still alive?” said a voice, incredulous.

Bacchus wheezed, coughed, and struggled upright. He was ready to take this bot down with him if he had to— _fight to the last bot—_

He tripped and fell backwards. Landed on his back—landed on his rotors _again_ —and cried out this time, something of a hoarse squawk.

“Quit it, moron,” said the big black and red bot. “Pits, I’m not gonna kill ya. Not unless you do somethin’ really stupid.”

Blue Bacchus squinted until his optics came into some semblance of focus. He swallowed, cycled a vent. The bot, whoever he was, reached out a hand.

Bacchus hesitated.

The other bot snorted. “Well?”

Blue Bacchus grabbed the hand and allowed himself to be dragged onto his pedes. He tripped on something again, looked down, and dimly registered the shape of his rifle.

_Ah._

He hastily grabbed it and shoved it into the holster on his hip.

Large, black-and-red wings twitched, glinted in the planet’s dying sun. “There any more of you alive out here?”

Bacchus swayed in surprise, then _finally_ managed to clear his vision with another couple of blinks. He looked around at the battlefield. There was nothing moving—not even when he stood unsteadily on the toes of his pedes and peered over the vast expanse of wings blocking his view.

“Uh,” he started. He rebooted his vocalizer with a painful scraping sound and grimaced. “Guess not? Not really.”

_Yeah, real nice, Blue. Real fraggin’ clever. The pretty bot’s gonna think you’re a total glitch-head._

No, hold on. _Pretty?_

Blue Bacchus didn’t have time to chase that train of thought, though, because the pretty bot _(just go with it, I guess)_ was talking again. “Congratulations,” he said, in a deadpan sort of way. He hefted a weapon _far_ superior to the one Blue Bacchus had been given. “Just keep outta my way, or there _won’t_ be any survivors left on this rock.”

Blue wasn’t entirely sure _why_ he stuck around, stayed so close behind the other bot. But he was pretty, and the only time he said _get outta here_ was right after Blue Bacchus made a really, _really_ terrible joke. He seemed irritated at first, but then after they got into a fight with another band of the enemy, strangely pleased. He gave Blue Bacchus a spare weapon when Blue’s broke down. Muttered something about an extra hand and cleanup, and why did They bother sending him out on this one, anyway… Phase Six wasn’t needed here. _Oh well._

His name was Black Shadow. And by the time everything on the planet was _extinct—_ well, Blue Bacchus left the planet with him. In a ship, mind; no way in the Pits could he fly with his rotors in a state like this, not when he wasn’t even sure how to transform to begin with. Black Shadow didn’t even seem to mind his company. If he did, his distaste was well-hidden.

Blue thought maybe—just maybe—he could make do with a reality outside fighting after all.


End file.
